


In the Heat of the Moment

by InTheShadows



Series: Destiny Has Blue Eyes [6]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur isn't helping, Canon Era, Don't copy to another site, Gen, Good Mordred (Merlin), Merlin Needs a Hug (Merlin), Mordred Just Wants to Be Friends, Mordred wants to but that's not going too well, Mordred's Hero Worship of Merlin, Mordred-centric (Merlin), Random & Short, bitter merlin, especially during a heatwave, ill placed tattoos can be annoying, merlin has issues, really he's just grumpy and fed up in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 02:08:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21402415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InTheShadows/pseuds/InTheShadows
Summary: Mordred watches as the knights splash around in the water. He desperately wishes he could join them, but that means taking his shirt off, which is - no. He will not be banished or executed just because he wanted to take a swim with the others. He's suffered greater things than this, being a Druid. That doesn't mean he likes it now.He's not the only one not swimming though. Mordred knows whyheisn't, but why isn't Merlin? Is he hiding something too?
Relationships: Merlin & Mordred (Merlin)
Series: Destiny Has Blue Eyes [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1489637
Comments: 18
Kudos: 707





	In the Heat of the Moment

**Author's Note:**

> Why am I writing about a heatwave in November? Because I'm freezing already, that's why. <s>I hate the cold.</s>  
I covered way more topic here than I originally planned - and barely touched on the only one I was going to include. Gotta love writing. Sigh.

Mordred watches from his spot under the tree with concealed envy as the other knights splash around in the pond. An unexpected heatwave had swept through the kingdom without sign of breaking anytime soon. It is enough to make even the simplest of tasks a misery, never mind anything else. There hasn’t been a single report of bandits, raids or any other sort of trouble. Even the creatures are not active. Frankly Mordred doesn’t blame them. 

Considering the lack of threat patrolling has not been needed. Not truly. Oh it wouldn’t be wise to abandon it entirely, but it is far too hot for even the most mundane of threats. Certainly too hot for a knight in full armour to be out in the sun. And there is certainly nothing out here that requires the king’s presence as well. But even the stone walls of the castle can’t leach away all of the heat. Arthur is just as miserable as the rest of them. 

No one had argued when he announced that he was taking the knights out for a patrol himself. No one dared. To use Emrys’ words, Arthur had been ‘a right prat’ as of late. The heat has made him more irritable than usual. Although if Emrys is to be believed than Arthur is always irritable, he just hides it better. Naturally Arthur had not been amused by this statement and had made his opinion known. Loudly. If anything his retort made Emrys complain more instead of less. 

Honestly, watching the two of them bicker is the most interesting thing about becoming a knight. They do so constantly and freely, almost anywhere. It is only during Court, or when at times when Arthur needs to appear dignified and full of authority, do they stop. It is common knowledge, at least among the servants and knights gossip, what the two are like. Practically married the maids like to giggle. They speculate that  _ this _ is the reason Arthur has not chosen a queen yet. 

The idea had shocked Mordred at first. Not because of their stations or sex, but, well, the Once and Future King and Emrys? The two of the prophecy? Like  _ that _ ? The more he saw of it, however, the more he agreed. They do fight like an old married couple. Who is to say that that closeness cannot follow to bed as well? They are clearly meant to be. 

A loud splash draws him from his thoughts. Amused he watches as Percy dunks Gwaine in retaliation to the attack, laughing good naturedly. The others join him, as Gwaine comes up sputtering and tackles him, starting a fight. Oh how Mordred would love to join them. He is roasting, even with his sleeves and pant legs rolled up as they are. Being a Druid has brought many complications into his life, but he never thought this would be one of them. 

Not being able to take his shirt off is positively trivial in the face of death, banishment and worse. Still that does not mean it is enjoyable to bare. He’s never been especially fond of the heat before this. Not that the cold is much better in other regards. It just comes with different problems. Trouble either way when you live the life he has. 

He withholds a sigh as he continues to watch. He just knows the teasing he will get from this will be terrible. Gwaine had already started, after his initial refusal. It makes him both annoyed and happy. Annoyed because, well, that should be obvious. Happy because that means he is a part of the group. They have accepted him. It isn’t a mocking or hateful tease after all, but a playful one. Like how they treat each other or Emrys. One of them. 

As if he read his mind Elyan turns and calls out, “Mordred are you sure you won’t join us?” 

“Don’t be so modest,” Gwaine continues, “We can’t  _ all _ be this handsome.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. 

Percy dunks him again. 

Mordred just shakes his head, mouth twitching into a smile. 

“At least come over here to get wet,” Arthur says, “before you collapse from the heat. Join Merlin, he’s being enough of a girl about undressing anyways. You can guard his virtue.” He smiles, clearly enjoying himself as Emrys shouts ‘Prat!’ and attempts to splash him. Unfortunately the rock he is sitting on is too far away. 

Mordred nods and obeys. He gets up, eyeing the others carefully as he walks over. Getting wet is one thing, being pulled in is quite another. He wouldn’t put it past them to try either. Fortunately he manages without incident, but not for lack of trying. Once done he joins Emrys in the shade, dangling his feet into the water. He can admit that he does feel a bit better now. It won’t last with how quickly he is going to dry, but at least it’s something. 

Neither of them speak as they watch the other’s play. Mordred can’t say he’s surprised. He is no closer to getting Emrys to trust him - or like him - than he was before. The silence is almost painful. Now if only he could take Emrys’ coldness towards him and turn it into an actual sensation. He wouldn’t be cold then. Then again he might freeze to death instead. 

Still he could not help but glance at him from the corner of his eye, wondering. He knows why he cannot join them, but what of Emrys? Is it truly modesty preventing him or something else? Surely it cannot be from fear of mockery. Emrys is toned - strong - powerful - even if not everyone seems to realize it. Of course they do not know of it magically, but even physically Emrys is no weakling. He need have no shame over his body. And it is not as if he has an ill placed marking to hide either. So why? 

Obviously he is not as subtle as he thinks because Emrys sighs and asks, “What?” His tone is low and annoyed. Tense. 

Mordred shakes his head. It does not take much to know that Emrys does not want to talk to him. Bad enough - for Emrys at least - that they must sit next to each other. He doesn’t want any more bad blood between them. 

“Ask so you will stop staring,” Emrys snaps. 

Mordred hesitates, then asks. He has been given permission after all, no matter how grudgingly given. “Why  _ don’t _ you join them?” 

Emrys makes an irritated noise. “Because I’m too much of a girl obviously.” He echoes Arthur’s words angrily. They have clearly affected him more than he let on before. 

Mordred shakes his head. “You are not. And even if it were true that wouldn’t make you weak. You’re not. You’re - you’re so strong,” he stutters and then has to fight to keep a blush off of his face. 

Emrys’ raised eyebrow confirms that it came out exactly as he feared. “Strong,” he says flatly. As if he thinks Mordred is mocking him. 

He can’t let that stand. Embarrassing it may be, but it is the truth. He nods. “Not only because you are Emrys,” he continues, “How powerful your magic is means nothing if you do not have the will to wield it properly.” 

Emrys snorts. “Opposed to what? Someone trying to kill Arthur every other day?” 

His tone is a touch too bitter. It turns Mordred’s stomach just hearing it. At the same time it makes something in him ignite. He is trying - trying to compliment, trying to be nice - and Emrys turns it into something like this? “You do not believe they have a reason?” While it is true Mordred does not agree with the action, it does not mean he does not understand. 

Their people have lived in fear, hated and hunted, for far too long now. They have to hide who they are to survive. For fear of being killed. Simply because Arthur has not executed anyone since he became king does not mean it is not still illegal. The penalty is still the same, even if he does not enforce it. Who is to say that others are not? That they are not taking matters into their own hands? He believes in Arthur, believes in the prophecy, but that does not mean people have no right to their anger and bitterness. Change may be coming one day, but it is not here yet. 

Emrys gives him a sharp look as if he has just declared his own desire to kill Arthur. He glares, scowling, before looking away again. “It would make my job easier if they didn’t,” he says, a growl in his voice, “How am I supposed to show Arthur magic isn’t evil when that is all he ever sees?” 

Mordred manages to stop himself from asking if Emrys considered revealing his own magic - but only barely. It is on the tip of his tongue to do so. He has to bite it to keep it from coming out. He cannot imagine how Emrys would take it considering how well he takes everything else Mordred does or says. That is, not at all. Likely he would hear it as a threat. So instead he asks, “You would rather our people live in fear?” 

“I don’t believe in sins of our fathers being reflected on the sons. Do you?” 

Mordred shakes his head. No, he doesn’t. 

“Do you know how hard it is to undo a lifetime of teaching while not being able to talk about it?” And oh his voice is so sharp, so frustrated, it could cut through rock. 

Again it is on the tip of his tongue to suggest revealing his magic - for surely Arthur would see then - but Emrys continues before he can say a thing. Almost as if he cannot help himself. 

“Do you know what it is like to have everyone look to you to fix everything when you don’t have an idea how? They all do and they all call me Emrys as if I have any clue what that means. As if I will save them with my mere existence. I didn’t know the first thing about magic before I came to Camelot. Not really. Hell, I still don’t. Not like I should.  _ You _ probably know more than I do. 

“They call me Emrys, but what does anyone ever do about it? Expect me to make everything right again. Expect me to have all of this knowledge. Well I don’t.  _ When _ would I have learned?  _ How _ ? No one ever tells me anything. Or, when they do, I don’t have time to understand it before it all blows up.  _ Again _ . 

“Or they tell me straight out, but it doesn’t make any sense because how could that happen? Impossible. It can’t be true - not that. Not her. Yet it was so what else is he right about that sounds impossible?  _ What am I supposed to do with all of this _ ?” 

And oh, oh, if Emrys’ tone was sharp before it is nothing compared to this. It is low and bitter and pained and lost. So very, very lost. In that moment it strikes Mordred just how very human Emrys is. How lonely and isolated he must be to have him tell this to someone he clearly hates. They are both the same in this regard. Mordred is so very lonely as well. It’s one of the reasons he wishes Emrys would give him a chance - with Emrys he doesn’t have to hide. Neither would he from Mordred. Maybe it would help - he could help. 

That last bit especially. Emrys is talking about someone specific - two someones. If he had to guess then he would say the ‘she’ is Morgana. But then who is the other? Who warned Emrys about her before her heart turned to hate? And just what else did this someone tell him that has him reacting like this? He doesn’t know. Just like he doesn’t know how to offer his support without it being rejected. Any thing from himself is not welcomed. 

Still that doesn’t stop him from offering, “I can see if I can get in touch with some of the Elders. They would be able to help you.” And make you feel a part of the community as well. Because that is another thing he noticed. The way Emrys speaks, it is as if he is separated from the magical community. As if, even with his magic, he does not belong. He does not feel a part of it even though he is seen as the head of it, for some. 

Emrys glances at him, suspicion clear on his face. 

“Why aren’t you swimming?” he asks again before he can say anything else. A change of subject is most definitely needed at this point. And he’s still curious. 

There is a long pause where Mordred thinks Emrys is going to ignore him before he shrugs. “Scars, what else?” 

For some reason the answer takes Mordred aback. “Scars?” he repeats. Of all the reasons he never would have guessed that one. 

“Scars no mere servant should have. They aren’t exactly inconspicuous - even Arthur would notice them.” He gives a bitter smile. 

That - that - oh. He has no idea what to say to that. He has no idea why it shocks him so much either, but it does. Maybe because this is further proof, on top of everything else, that Emrys is human. Maybe it’s one too many revelations, all too quickly, today. Whatever it is, the answer both shocks him and makes something flare protectively inside of him. Emrys has scars - Emrys has been hurt badly enough to have scars. More than one. It makes some instinct in him extremely unhappy. 

He nods in lieu of a true response. 

Emrys doesn’t say anything after that. Neither does he. What else is there to say? Too many things and yet nothing at all. 


End file.
